


Free! Eternal Winter

by fernwehxox



Category: Free!
Genre: American setting, Free! Eternal Summer, Friendship, Ice Skating AU, M/M, Romance, city/urban setting, makoharu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:03:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10123865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fernwehxox/pseuds/fernwehxox
Summary: Haruka Nanase is a professional figure skater who receives a surprise when he begins practice for the upcoming season; he's now sharing the ice with a hockey player whose style of skating couldn't be more different than his own.The pressure of finding his path in life, moving forward into his freshman year of college, and the competitiveness of professional skating begin to cause Haru to freeze over whilst, all the while, he can't help but run into this surprisingly attractive stranger left and right.  Will either of them be brave enough to break the ice?





	1. "Distant Free"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starryrosez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryrosez/gifts).



_Skating is like flying.  You prepare yourself as best as you can and push off into empty space, hoping for the chance to be lifted up.  With enough skill, you glide away, going higher and higher until reality is far beneath you.  Once you spread your wings, you can finally be free._

_However, if you hesitate, you plummet straight back down.  The ice will catch you without fail, but its embrace is hard and unforgiving.  It is a force of nature, encasing and preserving small swathes of time, taking lives with its frigidness and carving out channels in the earth when enough of it gathers to form a glacier.  Ice is something to be revered.  One must work in tandem with it in order to truly understand its nature._

The sound of the door to the men’s locker room slamming shut tore Haru from his thoughts and he raised his eyes from lacing up his skates.  Another skater, with ketchup red, shoulder length hair and a toothy grin, entered the room and approached the bench where Haru sat.  The sheen of sweat on his forehead and the overly satisfied look on his face were enough to tell Haru that he was already done practicing for the day at just a glance.

“I’m a hard act to follow, huh?” the redhead grinned at Haru as he plopped down onto the bench beside him.  Rin took up more space than necessary, elbows sticking out on either side of him and legs casually spread open as he began to untie his laces. 

Haru didn’t reply because he knew that no matter what he said, it wouldn’t change Rin’s opinion; he was fixed on being the best skater of their time, maybe even ever, and relentlessly chased after his goals.  Before Haru arrived, Rin was very likely at the rink before the sun even had the chance to rise to work on his routine.  Finished tying his skates, Haru stood and left Rin on the bench, twirling the dial on his locker with deft fingers.

Once Rin had picked up on the fact that Haru wasn’t planning on responding, he shrugged and added, “Anyway, did you hear that they’re announcing the prelim dates soon?” 

This peaked Haru’s interest, causing him to look over from behind his locker door for a moment and eliciting a spark in Rin’s eye. 

“No,” he replied simply.  “When are they going to do that?”

“They should be up by the twenty first,” Rin replied, already swinging his own locker shut and slinging a worn athletic bag over his shoulder.  “You should really stay on top of these things, Nanase.”

His last comment irked Haru.  Skating wasn’t about competition to him; skating was about getting in touch with the ice, respecting it and letting it lift you so that you felt like flying.  Skating was about freedom.

“Whatever,” the darker haired of the two muttered, grabbing his water bottle and slamming the locker door shut. 

Rin’s eyebrows rose a bit at Haru’s slightly aggressive actions.  He contemplated asking whether or not Haru was looking for a fight but shook off the thought, instead shrugging on his jacket. 

Sometimes it felt like he was, what with how annoying he could be, always acting indifferent and aloof when Rin tried to be friendly with him.  Plus, there were those times when they ran into one another in competitions and Haru looked so different on the ice, so – _ugh._   It was like he thought he had the audience wrapped around his little finger or something with that stupid doe-eyed look he had on his face, always staring at nothing.  It didn’t help that the bastard was always either getting top scores or close to them.

Hand in his pocket, he opened the door wide enough to let Haru pass through it before him.   Once the two had gone their separate ways, Haru hummed to himself under his breath.  If the dates for preliminary competitions were going to be released near the end of September like Rin had said, that meant he had to wait almost exactly two weeks to see them.  Guessing from previous years, this meant that the events themselves would likely begin around either late October or early to mid-November. 

It was more than enough time to prepare, for sure, but Haru figured that Rin wouldn’t stop counting down the days and stressing out until the day came.  He always seemed to be annoyingly on top of things like that and liked to rub it in Haru’s face, not to mention his obsession with his score.  Who really cared about that?  If a person skated, they should do it for the joy of skating and the chance to get onto the ice.

Because he was so lost in his thoughts, Haru was surprised when his sapphire eyes landed on two figures out on the ice.  One of them, much wider around the middle than the other and balding on the top, stood off to the side, watching the other as they swung a hockey stick, skating in a straight, boring line.  It wasn’t the pudgy old man that caught Haru’s attention, however. 

The player stopped at the other end of the rink before skating back toward his coach, shoulders heaving with exhalations, to receive his criticisms.  Haru moved to make his way down toward the ice, accidentally letting the door slam shut behind him.  The sound echoed loudly through the otherwise quiet rink.  The player, having skated over to the goal to pick up all of the pucks he had hit inside it, lifted his head and looked over at Haru. 

His chestnut hair stuck to his forehead, his skin shining with sweat under the harsh fluorescent lights and his eyes with something else entirely.  From where Haru stood, now on the side of the rink, water bottle clutched in hand, he couldn’t help but think how beautiful this stranger looked.  He shoved the thought aside.  This person, he thought, was toeing the line between using and disrespecting the ice.

Other skaters, like Rin, cut mercilessly across it, exerting their strength to reach a goal, the ice itself acting as a springboard for them to do so.  The person standing before Haru, however, was different.  The ice’s strength became his when he skated, although he tore it apart in the process, the blades of his skates thrashing the surface.  He didn’t dance, but there was a certain kind of beauty in the way he moved – the little bit that Haru had seen, anyway.

The stranger lifted his hand in a small wave despite it being full of hockey pucks and Haru returned the gesture, a small smile shaping his lips.  The other skater smiled, the expression producing a small flutter in Haru’s chest.  It was so brief that he wasn’t even sure it had happened. 

The coach, noticing that his player was distracted, said something to him that Haru couldn’t hear and he skated over, lining the pucks up in front of the goal again.

“Hey, sorry I’m a little late,” a familiar voice sighed behind him, breaking the silence once more.  Haru turned to see Elisabeth, his coach, standing behind him.  She was a cheery person, always with a smile on her face, sporting a chin-length haircut and thick-rimmed glasses. 

Only a year older than Haru, Elisabeth had moved to America from Finland when they were both in middle school.  Due to his father’s job, Haru had recently moved into the same neighborhood from Japan.  They ran into one another amidst the hustle and bustle of the moving trucks parked outside their houses and bonded, first over struggling to learn English together and over figure skating later on. 

They had remained friends all throughout middle and high school, remaining together through thick and thin.  Although Haru almost didn’t date at all, he was there to comfort her whenever Elisabeth declared an emergency sleepover after breaking up with one of her boyfriends.  Whenever Haru had a skating competition or needed extra practice, Elisabeth would be there to support him or to unlock the skating rink late at night when she began working there.

“Here,” she added, unfazed by Haru’s quiet nature, and held out one of the cups to him.  “To make up for delaying you, right?  I got your favorite.” 

Haru nodded in thanks and took a careful sip, the taste of a flat white nearly scalding his tongue when he did so.  While Elisabeth’s choice of drink was constantly changing – today she had a frappuccino that looked as though it had been buried in a mess of whipped cream, java chips and flavored syrup – Haru was more prone to reach for, if not a flat white, a cup of green tea.  As he watched Elisabeth look out over the ice, sipping on her drink, Haru couldn’t help but think for about the thousandth time how like a sister she was to him.

“You know, you’d think that it wouldn’t take so long with the coffee place being just down the block,” she grouched as she set down her coffee and laced up her skates.  Her small fingers moved with efficiency and speed, reminding Haru of when she skated during their time in high school.  He shook off the thought just as he had shaken off thinking about the skater on the other side of the rink.  “Ah well.  Let’s just jump right in, okay?  Did you listen to the music we set up?”

“Once or twice,” Haru admitted, shrugging his shoulders.  In reality, he had only listened to about half of the song.  When Elisabeth chose his music, which she always did, it didn’t matter to him so much; he knew that it was going to be beautiful.  Music had always been the best part of her old routines.

Elisabeth clapped her hands lightly, exclaiming, “That’s a first!  I hope you liked it, because it’s all you’ll be hearing until prelims and beyond.  Get out there and do some warm up laps on our side of the rink.”

“Who is that on the other side?” Haru inquired, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know his name, but it’s just some hockey people.  He brought a different guy last time he was here, I think,” Elisabeth informed, squinting at the two.  “Yep.  Definitely a different guy.  Anyway, they shouldn’t get in our way because I already talked to the coach and he said that they would just need a small section.  You’ll still be able to move around pretty freely, don’t worry about that.”

            “You don’t know their names?” Haru stalled, his gaze straying toward the player again.  Elisabeth shook her head.

            “No, sorry.  Now get out there and warm up or you’ll get lazy,” she chided, pushing him toward the swinging gate that separated the matted carpet of the bleachers from the smooth, beautiful glory that was the rink. 

            Haru inhaled deeply, turned his gaze from the stranger and pushed off onto the ice.


	2. "Memories in the Distance!"

            Inspiration can strike at unpredictable and often inconvenient times.  For Elisabeth, this statement was especially true.  It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Haru to receive a call at around two o’clock in the morning with Elisabeth on the other end, intensely describing some kind of revelation as to how his performance score could be brought up if only he took a few ballet lessons.  It was annoying at times, but Elisabeth was only trying to help Haru further his career and, knowing this, he did his best to be understanding.  The fact that her sudden bursts were inconvenient for him at times wasn’t helped by this, however.  Haru thought back on the most recent one as he rode the subway, head leaned back on the glass window as he stared blankly up at the advertisements plastered onto the ceiling. 

. . .

Haru removed his earbuds, gliding over to the edge of the rink for a drink of water.  His breath rose around his face in a cloud of steam and his chest rose and fell rhythmically, taking in air as efficiently as possible. 

The hockey player with the chestnut hair was here again, just as he always seemed to be anymore.  Before this September, Haru had never seen him before and now he was practicing drills or stretching at the bottom of the bleachers every time he entered the rink. 

The notes of an old routine accompaniment strained out from the earbuds, the only noise in the capricious space besides Haru’s breathing and the scrape of a set of skates that weren’t his.  As Haru drank and his breathing slowed, he noticed the silence slowly consuming the room.  The only sound was now the scraping of the hockey player’s blades grinding the ice into powder beneath them until, slowly, they slowed and became silent as well.  Haru turned his head to see what the other man was doing only to see him standing on the other side of the ice, looking right back at him. 

Their eyes met and the brunette smiled.  The color of his eyes, Haru noticed, was so gentle and mellow that he couldn’t help but think that maybe that’s how this person was when he wasn’t playing hockey.  Maybe his intense movements on the ice were just a way of it changing him, Haru thought.  The ice transformed the brunette into a fiercer version of himself just as the ice transformed everyone who stepped onto it; some people fumbled clumsily whilst others blossomed into gracefulness. 

Haru lifted a hand and waved.  The two of them usually waved to one another whenever they crossed paths but had never exchanged a word before.  As they stood there, virtually unmoving, something grabbed at Haru’s gut, impulse driving his lips to part, already beginning to form words without his consciousness fully keeping up.  He had no idea what he wanted to say or why he wanted to say it; saying something to fill the empty space between them just felt natural.  That’s when Haru’s cellphone rang.

. . .

What Haru was currently having trouble figuring out, sandwiched between a middle aged woman in nursing scrubs and a teenager with more ear piercings than he could count in the crowded subway car, was why the fact that he hadn’t gotten the chance to say anything to that hockey player was bothering him so much. 

It wasn’t as if either of them owed the other anything – they just happened to be in the same place at the same time frequently enough to warrant what could be considered a friendly wave at best.  That was all there was between them, so why did Haru feel the urge to talk to this guy?  He had never cared when other people shared the rink with him before.  Did he suddenly take interest in it because of how often he saw this guy?  Haru could feel himself beginning to overthink the issue, the beginnings of a headache already punishing him for his distress, so he put in his earbuds for the rest of the ride downtown and tried to block out any thoughts unrelated to skating.

 


	3. "Irritated Heart Rate!"

After what felt like a ridiculously long train ride, Haru found himself standing in the doorway of what Elisabeth had described as a “swanky” sports bar. It looked perfectly normal to him – for a sports bar, that is; everything was furnished with dark, overly-glossy wood and imitation brass, booths with worn faux leather seats lined the walls, jerseys from assorted sports and teams, as well as the equipment that went along with them, decorated the walls at random. The bar itself was obnoxiously front and center, crowded with muted flat screens, all playing rerun footage of sporting events or talk shows. Whilst scanning the restaurant for Elisabeth, a head of familiar red hair at the bar caught Haru’s eye.

“Rin,” he blurted without even thinking, causing the redhead in question to turn around on his stool. As he moved out of the way, Haru spotted another familiar face. “Sousuke?” 

Sousuke, Rin’s full-time skating coach, nodded curtly at Haru. Rin, Haru and Sousuke had gone to the same high school together and had been on the same skating team together. Despite the competition between them and the fact that they tended to rub one another the wrong way, Haru and Rin didn’t truly bear one another any ill will. 

Sousuke, however, had never seemed to like Haru very much and, from their first practice together, the feeling turned out to be mutual. Most of the time they avoided each other until Sousuke fell and injured his shoulder badly enough to put him out of skating for the rest of his life. Even now, Haru could make out the faint outline of a brace beneath the bigger man’s shirt. 

“Nanase,” Rin replied for both of them, tiredly waving the other skater over. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” Haru asked, not meaning to sound as blunt as he did, and took a seat on the stool next to Rin. He took in the mostly untouched drink in front of Sousuke, the half empty glass in Rin’s hand and the multitude of crumpled up napkins scattered before him.

“I could ask the same thing of you,” Rin quipped, a slight slur to his words. “This isn’t really your scene, is it, Nanase?” Haru shook his head.

“I’m here to meet Elisabeth. We’re supposed to talk about my theme. Is that why you’re here?” he pressed. It was Rin’s turn to shake his head now, scarlet locks swinging back and forth.

“My grandfather’s dead. Cancer,” was all that he said. He pushed the sleeves of the high school varsity jacket he still wore around, “The words hung heavily in the air between the three men, Sousuke looking at Rin with veiled concern in his eyes that Haru failed to notice; sapphire eyes wide, he was stunned. 

Having grown up alongside Rin, Haru knew that his father had perished in a boating accident when they were young; his family had gone to the wake to pay their condolences. Haru vaguely recalled the crying, the wailing relatives, Mrs. Matsuoka’s tearful face as she thanked his parents for coming, little Gou’s confused one as she held desperately onto her brother’s hand, not yet understanding of what was going on. 

Months later, when Rin had started edging away from his grief and acting more like his old self again, a relief to his playground friends, he bragged that his grandfather was coming to spend Christmas with them. Every year after that, it had been the same; a birthday or holiday would roll around and Rin would brag about his awesome grandfather, the one who always gave the best gifts, coming to celebrate with them. From time to time, Haru ran into Rin, Gou, and their grandfather in the park or at the mall. He saw how much love they felt for one another and was secretly envious of the strong bond they seemed to share.  
All of this came rushing back to him at hearing of the old man’s death. Haru’s chest ached as he whispered, “I’m very sorry.” Rin shook his head again, more vehemently this time.

“Why’re you sorry, Nanase? Don’t be. I should be the one apologizing and shit; I barely even went to visit him,” he spat, almost aggressively rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“Rin,” Sousuke cut in, putting a hand on the other man’s arm. 

Rin pushed him away, continuing, “It was my fault, you know? I was an ungrateful shit to him. I didn’t visit enough because I was too fucking focused on my fucking self. He probably thought I didn’t care and I didn’t care enough to even visit him.” Tears pooled in his eyes and he swiped at them angrily as they fell. “He gave me everything and I do this?” 

Finally, Rin couldn’t hold himself together any longer; looking as though he had crumbled from the inside out, he collapsed and began to cry softly into his hands, fiery strands of hair falling in front of his face as if to hide it further. Other patrons began turning toward them with curious expressions, causing Sousuke to put a protective arm around his friend, looking at Haru with an edge in his already steely eyes.

“I think you’d better go meet up with whoever’s here for you,” he stated, his message clear: ‘This is your fault. Get out of here before you mess things up any further.’ Haru apologized lowly and complied, ducking his head in embarrassment as he got down from the bar stool. He had seen Rin cry before over the years, but never like this. 

Before he had the chance to do anything more, Haru felt his phone buzz, his saving grace. It was a text from Elisabeth reading, ‘Where the heck are you? I’m sitting in the rear and I’ve been waiting you forever!’

Haru replied, ‘**for you. Omw’ as he made his way to the last row of booths, wherein he spotted Elisabeth’s blonde ponytail bent over the glowing screen of her phone. She looked up at him with a frown as he sat down and showed him her phone. 

“You grammar nazi. You know I know my English isn’t always good and, I mean, texting doesn’t even count,” she complained. 

“I’m only trying to help,” Haru muttered, his mood soured by his interaction with Rin.

“Who spit in your bean curd?” Elisabeth raised her eyebrows at him in surprise, pausing when she noticed Haru’s downcast expression. When quoting one of their favorite sleepover movies didn't work, she took a more gentle approach, leaning forward and gently taking both his hands in her own, much smaller ones. “What happened, huh?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it right now,” Haru returned, making eye contact solely with the table; out of the corner of his eye, he had noticed Sousuke leading a now hiccupping Rin out of the establishment. 

“Alright, that’s okay. Just whenever you’re ready to, you know to come and talk to Mama Elisabeth. How about I order us an appetizer platter? That’ll cheer you up at least a little bit,” she suggested, waving over a passing waitress, whose cleavage was engaged in an intense battle with her shirt buttons. 

This brought the smallest of smiles to Haru’s face and prompted him to say, “I’m never calling you that, just so you know.” 

Relieved, Elisabeth just laughed and waved him off, saying, “I know. One day, you’ll give in and do it by accident.” 

Once the food arrived, the blonde filled both hers and Haru’s plates with mozzarella sticks, onion rings, and jalapeño poppers – she had asked the chef to hold the hot wings because she was currently a vegetarian – and allowed a few minutes for them both to eat before producing a notecard from inside her purse and sliding it across the table to Haru.

“So, onto what we’re here for – your theme! Hurray! Right? Ready to hear it?” she prompted, rubbing her hands together excitedly. Haru shrugged and turned the card over. 

Spelled out in Elisabeth’s bubbly handwriting, the word “TRUST” stared Haru in the face. Elisabeth slid a CD over the table to him next, grinning from ear to ear.

“I already had most of it put together from what I’ve had you practicing recently but you probably noticed that we were still missing a song. I figured it out – the perfect song for you to finish your set with! Just listen to it for real this time, or else,” she warned, shaking a finger at him before popping another onion ring into her mouth.

“I’ll try….” Haru conceded, briefly turning the CD over in his hands and looking back at the notecard. “Why trust?”

“I figured you should focus on something to develop this year, you know? I figured it would be cool – cool like ice,” Elisabeth quipped upon swallowing, giggling at her own joke. Haru rolled his eyes.

“I don’t need development. I trust people already.” Haru took a sip of his water, not liking the direction this was headed in. Elisabeth locked eyes with him, her dove gray gaze suddenly intense.

“My ass you do. You know as much as I do that I trust you way more than you trust me. You don’t trust anybody, even,” she deadpanned, causing Haru to shrug. “Also, I only have like, four dollars on me. Could you help out? I’ll pay next time, I promise!”

Haru sighed and reached for his wallet. This was another habit of Elisabeth’s that Haru only partially minded since she often bought him coffee for practice and small knickknacks that she found in the odd shops that she tended to visit in her spare time. 

“Ooh, and we can’t forget a tip,” Elisabeth reminded and slurped down the rest of her drink. Whilst counting out enough money to pay for the food, Haru pulled his grocery list from inside his wallet. 

Seeing as it detailed essential items like bread and milk that he couldn’t procrastinate on buying any longer, Haru made a mental note to stop by a convenience store on his way home to pick up a few things. After paying the check and receiving several tight hugs from Elisabeth, Haru shrugged on his coat and set out to do just that.

 

“Hi, how are you? Find everything you need okay?” the cashier asked robotically when Haru set the items on the counter. 

“Good. Yes, thank you,” Haru replied curtly. He noticed that they had added a pink and green streak to their short hair and wondered what it would be like if he did the same. 

“That’ll be – that’s twenty-two eight seven,” they informed, picking at a hangnail.

Haru retrieved a twenty dollar bill and a handful of coins from his wallet, finding no other cash inside, and groaned internally. Damn that tip. The search for his debit card came up empty; he realized that he must have left it at home. Something had to go and it wasn’t going to be the cooking oil he needed to fry the mackerel he had saved up for. 

Annoyed, Haru picked up the egg carton and made to put it back when he bumped into something large and warm – or, rather, someone. Upon looking up and seeing the stunningly attractive hockey player from the rink, Haru’s apology became a surprised murmur. He hoped he wasn’t staring, but he couldn’t take his eyes away. 

Seeing the brunette when he was covered in sweat and about a dozen yards away was one thing, but seeing him up close and inhaling the scent of sweet cinnamon and laundry detergent that he carried with him. Haru was struck by how someone could look so hardened and intense out on the ice but, when wearing sweatpants and a beanie pulled over his chocolate locks, could look so soft when removed from it. 

Haru’s head, eyes dating over the register’s displayed price, and the plastic bags and change sitting on the counter. “Oh, wait – hang on. I can cover it,” he offered, already stepping forward to do so.

“ You don’t have to do that,” Haru interjected a bit too quickly. What was this man hoping to gain, if anything? There was a slight pause as the cashier glanced between them, a semi interested expression on their pointed features.

“From one friend to another, really. Well, acquaintance, really – I see you all the time at the skating rink. Not to be creepy or anything! I just run into you a lot so....yeah.” A chuckle escaped the brunette’s lips and he rubbed the back of his neck. Haru’s brows rose slightly at the sight despite his nearly cracking a smile.  
“….Thank you,” he decided at last, nodding to confirm it to himself. He was going to accept this gesture and get out of there so his milk wouldn’t spoil and his heart would stop pounding.

“You’re welcome.” The player’s smile radiated like the sun beneath the fluorescent lighting. Haru’s dark, straight lashes concealed his eyes, which he directed at the floor as the other man handed the cashier the difference.

The bags crinkled as Haru picked them up.

“Hi, how are you? Find everything okay?” he heard the cashier ask again, switching back to the same bored tone as before.

“I’m good and I did, thank you! How are you?” 

“Good.”

Haru hesitated before looking up from studying the store’s logo on the bags in his hands, turning toward the hockey player. Lips parting slightly at first, he lifted his eyes to the other’s face and was surprised to find a pair of emerald hued irises looking directly into his own.

“Um,” he sputtered. A few beats passed. The cashier read out the hockey player’s total and he handed over the cash, vivid gaze flicking between them and Haru. “Thank you,” he managed at last. The words formed themselves clumsily in Haru’s mouth; he suddenly found it difficult to articulate himself. 

Deciding that it was best to leave at this point, he pushed his shoulder against the door and stepped back out into the night, the bell tinkling above him. Surprised to hear it a second time in quick succession, he looked over his shoulder to find that the kind hockey player had followed him onto the sidewalk.  
Sapphire and emerald clashed and their eyes met. Haru’s breath caught in his throat and, somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped that it wasn’t noticeable; he wasn’t sure why it had happened to begin with. (Part of him suspected that he might be beginning to fall ill, although he hoped he wasn’t.) 

Again, Haru’s lips parted and, again, his search for words proved futile. The brunette smiled his sun-like smile and gave a slight wave, just as he always did, and the two parted ways.


End file.
